Her forest-green eyes appearing in his vision.
Why did she always have to look so perfect?
“We are going for flattery, are we?” she said.
Shit, had he said that out loud?
Her hands cupped his face, her heat mixing with his.
“You with me?” her perfect lips mouthed.
Being in her arms, it shouldn’t feel this good. He had more than he deserved already.
He closed his eyes, blocking her delicate face from view.
“Not completely,” he said, reaching his hand behind his head.
It was wet and sticky.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
She said the last part in a whisper, her arms pulling him in closer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t handle it, should have helped, I?—”
“STOP,” Adria said.
She was using that voice. The one that sent blood straight to his groin.
Fuck, he was so messed up.
“I’m in awe of you,” she said.
He groaned in protest. “I’m a mess.”
“You tried again,” she said, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead, leaving a trail of tingles in her wake.
“It’s so complicated with family. They are the ones that are supposed to love you unconditionally. And I know what it is like to give them your love without conditions, only to have it snatched from your grasps and treated not like a treasure meant to be kept safe, but as a trophy to be displayed.”
Heopened his eyes, locking onto hers.
That night after the bar felt like a lifetime ago, yet here they were again. And once more, he had the unsettling feeling that she saw him.
Not just saw him—knew him.
Not because she had studied him.
But because she had been him.
“What you’re afraid of isn’t them,” Adria said softly. “Love bends, but it doesn’t break. Don’t let your past take them from you.”
Her mask was off.
Perfectly broken.
Except she had reassembled herself piece by piece.
He loved that.
